The shrine in the center of the Gardens of Devotion has a spacious hall that has been decorated and prepared for this year's Longest Night. True to the Heliotrope spirit of this part of the salon, there are several seating accommodations, groups of comfortable chairs and cushions scattered across the hall, leaving a large space at the center for dancing and mingling. Banners adorn the walls, and each of the four grand salons is represented here, in the display of their marques that have been woven into silk that flutters with each tiny shift of air within the hall. The Wild Rose is there, hanging beside the Golden Lily and the Wisteria. The Red Poppy Flower, the sign of Le Coquelicot, has been put up behind the dais where the salon leaders and Seconds are lounging in chairs, speaking among themselves in soft tones.

Novices of the salons make their rounds about the hall, each carrying trays with glasses of joie, some of which have already found their way into the hands of adepts and courtesans. Each salon has dressed in a particular color, and in the case of Rose Sauvage, it seems, that Red Roses, White Roses and Thorns have chosen the traditional red, white and black to distinguish them from each other. Half-masks in the color matching their attire complete the outfit, and these have been elaborately done, some adorned with colored glass stones, and others with dyed feathers.

The mood is overall festive, and the air is filled with music, that is for once provided by a number of hired musicians. For now. Later, there may be demonstrations of skill planned for those versed in musical entertainment. Along with some games, to keep things interesting.

A young woman walks in wearing a bright , sheer red lace dress, that doesn't cover her shoulders, wrapped in a tight sheathe around her body and coming down all the way to her knees, baring fit calves, matching red high heels giving her hips a little sway. A red half mask covers her upper face, a streak of red feathers jutting out over her hair, short, bob cut hair tied with a red band around her head. She accepts a glass of joie..and drinks deeply, eyes bright in delight as she looks around.

Red seems to be the color that Séverine nó Rose Sauvage has chosen for her dress. A fitting color, for the Second of Red Roses. The cut of the dress leaves her arms and most of her back bare, the marque adorning her skin clearly visible, especially as the red-blonde hair has been gathered to a knot to draw attention to the pale skin of her neck. A half-mask of red samite covers the upper half of her features, and she holds a glass of joie in her right hand while she is in conversation with a Second of one of the other salons.

The Piglet of Glycine is here, representing her house in a loosely pleated robe of brilliant orange hue, bound at her crotch and just below her bosom with golden ribbons to make the fabric bundle and drape like a wild northern maiden on an ancient Hellene pot. The shoulders of the garment are free, clasped with golden brooches in the shapes of grasshoppers, and the half-mask that fits so surely to the top of her nose and across to her temples that it must have been made to a mold of her face is covered in gold leaf, engraved with the astrological sign of the Lion, and embellished with short, wavy arms around the top and sides as to present the face of the sun. She carries a sistrum in one hand and chases merrily after her fellow second from next door, full of joie and high spirits.

Lois is one of the adepts of the Coquelicot salon, it shows in the calm of her gaze, of blue eyes in a face that shows a faint spray of freckles. The upper part of said face is covered with a half mask of green hues, glass beads worked in there, to catch the occasional glitter of a light's reflection. Along them, vines of a darker green have been painted upon the mask, making this one a herbal fairy indeed. Her dress echoes the theme of leaves and plants, skirts showing those same ornaments, the bodice tied to make a pleasant display of her slender yet feminine physique. Wide long sleeves of a darker hue of green charm her arms loosely, and wide long skirts a free to twirl whenever she does a turn. The majority of her red hair has been left to cascade down over her shoulders and upper back, while a few braids blink with green glass stones that have been worked into them.

Checking on one of the Coquelicot novices that go around offering joie to the new arrivals, Lois takes a glass from a tray and lifts it to her lips, echoing the "Joie to you," the novice offered. Red tresses fall about her shoulders, as she turns to look towards those arriving from the gardens.

Aurore strides in. The noble is dressed in a very fashionable scarlet with black brocade overdress, embroidered to suggest feathers, square cut at the bodice to display her neck and collarbones to best effect. Her underdress is so dark a red as to be almost black. Her layered sleeves are scalloped to suggest wings. Her half mask is beaded and feathered with a long beak, the entire effect designed to suggest a Cardinal. She peers around, taking the measure of the place. A small smile graces her lips

Sauntering into the hall of the Shrine of Love is a creature of passion. She too has red hair — a hair color that should be so rare but is to be seen on many of those currently here to celebrate Longest Night. Tresses cascade down in long waves, shimmering like fire, but it is the glowing orange color of her dress and the half mask that seem to scream for attention. The gait Amaryllis nó Glycine adopts emanates a sensual confidence, as she begins her first turn about the hall in search of a drink. The cut of her dress is more conventional, back covered, a bodice tied to make an impressive show of slender waist and feminine shape. Skirts of orange, various shades of it, make a soft swishing sound as she walks. That gait alone, it breathes and emanates Jasmine canon, the focus on passion in her Service to Naamah. Slender fingers reach out to claim a glass from the same tray, a novice is holding out for Aurore. "Joie to you.", Amaryllis smiles as she takes two glasses up, to offer one to the woman with the black beaked mask. The adept cannot be older than eighteen, probably slightly younger. And yet there is no hesitation, as she lifts her own glass and in throwing her head back downs it in one single gulp.

Séverine notes Cochonnet's approach, and turns to face the Second of House Glycine, in that elegant minimalism of movement, her chin tipped down in a hint of a nod of greeting. "Joie to you, my dear Cochonnet. You look so lovely tonight," the slightly frail looking Red Rose Second intones, leaning in to offer Cochonnet a kiss of greeting to the side of the mouth. They are both visitors in this oldest salon of Marsilikos, and it is no coincidence that Coquelicot specializes in the canons that sort of serve Eisheth's spirit of healing. "The way you shimmer and glitter… this is quite the spectacular attire… Oh Lioness…" The latter, she adds with a wink. "How is the Salon of Glycine faring? It has been a while since the last debut?"

Theodosia slips a token to one of the adepts at the door, smiling at the warm greeting, the young woman making her way around, noticing the courtesans, and the pretty, pretty dresses, the elegance, the sheer delight. She does admire Cochonnet's attire, then moves towards one of the windows, where she can sip at her joie..

Sarielle no Lis d'Or, in the typical fashion of the Eglantine canon of mapcap genius, has constructed something ostentatious for the evening. She's seemingly taken inspiration from her Eiran heritage. Her gown is comprised of layer upon layer of the thinnest silk, woven with golden threads and scintillating in the light as if encompassed in an unearthly glamour. Branches of hawthorn have been bound together with gold ribbon and secured about her slender waist. Her pale hair is arrayed in an artful tangle, berries affixed to pins and distributed throughout. The Aes Sídhe guise is completed with a semi-opaque half mask of the same fabric as her skirts, multiple pieces affixed to each other and molded in an unsettling guise of her own features, built on the illusion of protuberant bones. The adept has claimed a glass of joie and is lingering near the edges of the party. She seems contemplative; it's her first Longest Night post-debut, the first she's free reign to follow Naamah's will as she wilt in the presence of the assembled decadence of Marsilikos's Night Court.

"Bonne Joie, ma Séverine!" Coco resounds, catching up to her fellow Second who lets herself so amenably to capture and slinging one bared arm from the folds of her gown's arm and slide it around to the small of Séverine's back while leaning in to accept and bestow warm kisses in turn. One might imagine how she freezes in those flowing Hellene gauzes, her arms bare and, at close quarters, her nipples almost visible below the nigh-translucent fabric which cannot possibly shield her from the winter's chill. But Cochonnet Cocotte was never to be daunted by such mundanities as the weather; here, under the sign of Leo, she presents Midsummer in Midwinter, all topsy-turvy as her canon demands. "Oh, bless," she accepts the compliment, "And you look just ready to be taken up in ravishment, sweetie," she goes on, swaying with her hips to the music on offer and swatting her sistrum against her buttock to mark the time. "It has been, yes. Debuts will resume in the spring, I think, or when the summer comes and the season is brisk. But on the whole, even in the quiet of winter we are content. Several of our adepts were abducted under month long contract to go to Elua along with the great exodus. And I— I have some time to get some work done on my upcoming tableaux," her sky blue eyes are gleaming in the middle of her sunshine masque. "What of things next door? All is well, I trust?"

Aurore's lips curl up in a delighted smile, "And joie to you and all here assembled." She quaffs her own glass with vivacious glee. Her accent is elevated and of L'Agnace, but there is a carefulness about her pronunciation, and an educated ear might catch a hint of something more northerly here and there. More quietly, she introduces herself, "I am?Vicomtesse Regent Aurore nó Bonnel de Chalasse." The Cardinal selects another glass, and steps quietly back to enjoy the beauty of the costumes and those wearing them. She seems genuinely appreciative of all the artistry on display. The arrival and truly unique appearance of Sarielle's costume freezes her a moment, and then her steps take her that way, the better to examine the effect.

The Glycine adept nods her head, when Aurore returns the greeting. "I am Amaryllis of the Glycine Salon, my lady," she tells her, and effortlessly shifts into a graceful curtsey, her gaze flicking down for that brief gesture of courtesy. "Enjoy your evening. And the night.", is added with a slightly ominous smile, before this redhead slips away, having spotted someone a bit further away.

"Is that so?" Séverine looks a bit surprised when Cochonnet tells her of Glcyines that have vanished to Elua. "I wonder, what for? When they will miss the fête at House Cereus." A soft chuckle rises in her slender throat, as the Red Rose shakes her head in wonder. "I understand that to see the City of Elua is a tempting treat in itself… But to be only companion for the travels, and the nights before and after Longest Night… sounds like less fulfilling to me." Grey eyes brush the attire of La Cochonnet with a sweeping gaze, and she chuckles at the Glycine Second's comment. "I would need the prospect to be admitted to Cereus House on the night of the Longest Night Ball. I wouldn't settle for anything less," she confides. "And yet. Our dear Olivia has left for the Capital as well. Someone insisted on her company. And with her grace and background, and the enthusiasm of her admirer… I suspect she will be taken along to the Palace, to see the King and the Queen." She doesn't quite respond to Cochonnet's question, apart from a quick nod and a smile, that would most probably mean a 'yes'.

Truth be told, Lois' own debut happened about four months ago. So it is her first Longest Night as well, as an adept. Oh how well she remembers the time as a novice, when she — on previous Longest Nights — had to make the rounds with trays of joie, and was not permitted to partake in the fun. Her glee may be similar to that of Sarielle, even if it shows perhaps a bit differently, with the slightly introverted smile curving her lips, as she cannot help but pause beside the glittering Sídhe fairy. "Joie to you." Adepts so close in age would know each other, with the Night Court being a small but very close community within the city of Marsilikos. "Sarielle." Lois' smile deepens as she reaches out to touch her hand to Sarielle's lower arm. "Finally." That one word, summing it all up more efficiently than a long eloquent sentence. "Enjoy."

Seraphine normally does wear light colors, but tonight, she is wearing bright red. Have to keep with the appropriate theme, along with a glass-sparkling half-mask. This too is her first time at a Longest Night of her new, elevated station of Adept. It's a change though, and it takes some adjustment. But an adjustment that includes taking a drink from Novice with a murmured thanks.

"Angels only know what mischief our Paris Paradise and co. might be getting up to on this longest of nights," Coco sways beatifically, eyes turning toward the heavens high above the gardens, as though it might mirror back to her what's happening so far away, then, drawn back to the Red Rose Second, "Oh! And Livy's gone away, too, has she? Well, yes, she was always destined for fine things," Coco admires, but without envy. The piglet's place is in the mud, and she revels in it, so. She spies, over there, a cluster of new adepts trying to accustom themselves to the revels, "Oh, dear," she points at them with her eyes, "They look as though worried someone might hand them a tray of joie at any point and ask them to stand in a corner," she giggles. "Should we go molest them, sweet Séverine?"

Aurore gives Amaryllis a sharper smile, "A flower that was a nymph, and perfect for the Longest Night. It suits." In response to what Séverine has said, she wonders out loud, "Ambition then perhaps?" Noting the youth of some of the adepts, she proposes another toast, "To a fine and prosperous year!"

Aurore's comment on her name makes Amaryllis pause and shoot a glance back at the lady. "Thank you," she smiles, a bit of mischief glittering there. "But this nymph may not be the right food for your beak." A cheeky jest, she offers with a wink, then turning away as she heads out of the hall into the gardens. "I might see you later. Or maybe I won't. Enjoy the festivities…" This offered in a last aside over her shoulder. Before she slips out.

Broken from her musing by the touch on her arm, Sarielle startles for a moment, joie sloshing precipitously and in a very non-Lis d'Orian manner before she stabilizes it with a deft twist of her wrist. "Lois," she greets with a tremulous smile, inclining her head, setting off a tinkling of berry-disguised bells from her hair. "Joie."

"Oh! I am so sorry…" Lois' eyes widen when she becomes aware of how her sneaking up on Sarielle obviously has startled the other adept. "I didn't mean to…" Her brows lift. "You look beautiful. And maybe… it's because I'm clad all in green that you didn't notice me coming over to you." A hint of nervousness shows in the way, her fingers brush over her skirts as if to smooth them. "Are you…?" Her hand reaches again for Sarielle's arm, but it seems, Lois favors leaving sentences unfinished at the moment. "Don't be." There is an assuredness about the tone of the Gentian flavored Coquelicot. "It is alright. And we shall have a wonderful night here.", she assures, but perhaps also as sort of mantra to herself.

"Should we? Startle them?" Séverine looks intrigued for a moment at the thought. Tilting her head a little, she follows Cochonnet's gaze over to the adepts, as if she were really considering this. "I believe I lack the cruel streak, in my personality, to pursue such an action. A tray of joie. Hah. As if they never debuted."

Theodosia has emptied her class of joie, so when she gets a new one…somehow she hears Cochonnet's words, and shakes her head a little hearing the naughtiness under the tone and the playfulness, so she cannot stop a little chuckle, though that means the joie goes down the wrong way so she chokes a bit and coughs, tapping her own chest , while her eyes sparkle.

Aurore returns Amaryllis' smile, not at all offended as she suspects as much, and is mostly here for the company, rather than in search of future contracts. She drinks to the luck of the young adepts. To Sarielle she remarks with real admiration, "That is a really inventive costume."

Into the hall of the shrine enters a young handsome lad clad all in white. Loose trousers are worn together with a shirt of white color, with the top portion worn loosely open, revealing a glimpse of his youthfully firm and faintly muscular torso. The half mask he wears is white and has been adorned with white feathers. His color of attire points him out to be one of the White Roses, a paragon of innocence usually, as an adept of Alyssum canon usually is. Tonight though, he seems to be quite at ease, glancing at the various Night Court flowers that are roaming the hall, and the few non-courtesans that have found their way here. Aimeric smiles as he snatches a glass from a passing tray and takes a good sip of the joie, instantly feeling that slightly inebriating effect of the beverage.

"Oh, we can leave the cruelty aside, tonight, I think. Or at least leave it to those dressed in black," Coco giggles, beginning to make her way past Severine and toward the nervous-looking adepts, a hand seeking to hook onto Severine's waist on her way over to draw her fellow Second along with her. "Come on, come with me, let's get them good," she grins, fairly beaming with joie as she draws herself up to her rather formidable height and presents herself (and possibly the other Second) to the adepts: "Bonne Joie, mes filles! Come drink with us! Oh, and bring your lucky friend," she decides, of Aurore.

Sarielle gives the other adept a conciliatory smile, "Don't mind me; I was lost in thought." When the other adept's hand brushes her arm, she impulsively grabs a-hold of it and her smile deepens, dimples defining her cheeks beneath the uncanny mask, ducking in to give the girl a slight-short-of-chaste kiss of greeting to show all's forgiven with joie-touched lips. "And you are a vision as well, Lois." Withdrawing her own hand, she briskly rubs it against the arm holding her cup, accompanied by another tinkling of bells. Aurore's comment has her pale blue eyes shifting to the women, curtsying neatly, "My lady flatters me. Are you familiar with the legends of the Aes Sídhe, the Fair Folk of Eire?"

Again, Sarielle's attention is shifted at the approach of the Second(s), greeting both, "Joie to you on this Longest Night." She's put at easy by the woman's insouciant manner, a touch of tenseness flowing from her shoulders.

Theodosia finally manages to get a hold of herself, helped by a small glass of water that one of the adepts offers helpfully, even though she's a bit pink faced, thankfully the mask helps with that. She notices the handsome young man who walks in, and her smile is a bit evil…the red dressed noblewoman making her way towards Aimeric.. when apparently he's stolen by some else and drawn towards a corner.

Aurore smiles at Sarille, curious, "I fear I do not, though I do love a good story, especially on a winter's evening." To the seconds she repeats "And Joie to you!"

There is faint protest in the manner, Séverine strains a little against that pull, Cochonnet exerts on her. But then again, it is the Valerian way, to resist a little, before submitting to another's will. "Baptiste must be somewhere around," the Red Rose Second muses, when Cochonnet mentions black attire, in almost protest and the attempt to distract, before she already finds herself standing before the pair of female adepts. Seraphine she had noticed from afar, but apparently this Red Rose adept is now in conversation with some other adepts and courtesans a bit further away. What a contrast Séverine must look, pale, delicate and of that certain frail look, the dark red of her dress seems to emphasize even more; with the healthy, forward and always mischievous Cochonnet at her side. "And Joie to you," Séverine echoes towards Sarielle and Aurore.

Lois looks more or less stunned, when Sarielle pulls her closer for a sisterly kiss of greeting. And perhaps it is a blessing to have at least a bit of green half-mask and glittering glass stones to hide behind, when the Coquelicot adept realizes that both her and Sarielle become the focus of attention. "Thank you," she murmurs towards Sarielle. And then, she pulls already back, turning to greet the two Seconds of other salons with a curtsey. "Joie to you," is offered respectfully to them, and to Aurore as well.

Handsome, with a mask of white feathers. Certainly others are tempted to corner such desirable prey on Longest Night, but Aimeric quickly manages to slip out of that brief interruption, excusing himself with a charming smile from an utterly forward, Bryony flavored Glycine. His gaze lands on Theodosia, and the White Rose adept notices that evil grin perhaps. But if he does, why does he remain where he is, waiting for her to cross the remaining distance to him?

"Joie for everyone, I should think— fresh glasses, oui?!" La Cochonnet tips her chin upward with a faintly imperial air and, lo, fresh glasses all around. "Drink up, mes filles, the night is long ahead," she laughs brilliantly under her blazing Sun in Leo masque. "Oh, sweet Severine, we have made it just in time for the story. So blessed are we. What story are we hearing, darlings? Come with us," she appends before letting anybody answer, beginning promptly to angle her long, amazonian arms to begin to herd all of those she desires in the direction of her choosing. "My father is, you must have heard by now, a swineherd. And I, now, seem, to have taken up his trade, but mis-spelled, for I have become a swainherd," she bubbles up with joie and laughter. "Over there, where we all might sit." Severine, Lois, Sarielle, Aurore.

As Aimeric seems to be freed, the short, the red masked noblwoman makes her way towards him, smiling. "Good evening to you, messire, and joie!" She says warmly, lifting her glass, the shine in her eyes makes it clear it's not her first glass. Theodosia chuckles a bit as she hears Cochonnet's words, and peeks in that direction.

Lois obeys and empties her glass of joie, blue eyes clouding a little from the potency that is instantly felt. Looking from Cochonnet to Sarielle then, and then back again to the pair of Seconds, this Coquelicot adept trots along, senses numbed to the temperment of a lamb, her hand reaching for Sarielle's arm, this time in search for support in steadying herself.

Aurore nods her thanks and takes up a new glass, a faint colouring visible on what can be seen of her cheeks from what was already imbibed. Her laugh at the joke is full throated. He comes along willingly enough, happy to see where the night takes her.

"Joie to you, my lady." The White Rose offers a bow to Theodosia, and in straightening, studies her for a moment. "You are not of our Night Court," Aimeric states the obvious. "But I can see you are already enjoying yourself?" He empties his own glass and replaces it quickly with a filled one.

Theodosia smiles and nods, sipping at her glass of joie. "No, I am Theodosia de Fhirze…and I got a token…and I will not tell you what I had to do to get it.." She bats her long eyelashes playfully, then lays a hand on his arm leaning in a bit to show off her cleavage..and maybe to tease him a bit. "Yet." She lets out a bit of huskiness in her voice with that last word. "And..are you enjoying yourself?"

"A story," Séverine repeats towards Cochonnet, and maybe the Glycine Second can see the amused glitter in those grey eyes that hide behind a mask of red samite. "I can tell stories of another kind, but they would be quite… different in character," she smiles, "but pray, tell us and share that delightful story. I believe, it will be quite diverting." Following after the others, she takes a seat within the garden of silk, an area where drapes and shawls have been painted with likenesses of plants and trees, acting as divider from the rest of the hall.

"Aimeric nó Rose Sauvage," the same introduces himself to Theodosia, once she gives him her name. His features pull into a smirk. "I daresay, it would make me blush, the tale of how you got your token." And yes, a faint rosiness begins to show on his face. Slowly, he empties his second glass of joie, whilst holding her gaze in a slightly daring manner. "I have just arrived," Aimeric replies then to her question. "But yes. I am enjoying myself. It is Longest Night." His shoulders lift in a light shrug, and his gaze wanders, pulling away from her gaze to Theodosia's overall appearance.

"I think that we were about to hear tell of this gilded Lily's inspiration for her costume for the evening," Coco surmises. Even if the joie is making her tipsy, it's not making her brainless, just yet, and she ushers them all before her into the silken garden, following them in and discovering a way to drape herself upon something soft while pouring the rest of her most recent joie into her person. Bonne joie!

Theo smiles as she sees some people heading to the more hidden silken nook.. but then she giggles a bit and she allows Aimeric to study her petite, curvy body, nor really hidden by her sheath dress, her cleavage quite deep. "Oh, but I may like you blushing.." She says, coming just a little closer to the boy.

"As you say, my lady." The Lis d'Or, at the word of Cochonnet, finishes her current flute of joie in a single drink — still somehow managing to hold onto her courtly air as she does — and accepts a new one before hooking her arm around Lois' impishly when the other adept reaches out for her, a willing escort. Sarielle's gaze lingers, perhaps a moment too long, on Séverine when the Red Rose speaks of stories of a different nature, pink rising under her fair skin. "Ah, no, not a story like that; a story from Eire, of the Tuatha Dé Danann," the words roll off with a native lilt, "who retreated to the Otherworld, and who must be appeased least they spoil your crops or steal away your children, replacing them with agents of their own."

That Aimeric pulls back a little may be because of instinct — or the long trained mannerisms of Alyssum canon. "You enjoy my blush?", he asks, blinking. One step back, then another. Backing up slowly, not really fleeing. Not yet. He keeps his gaze steady, directed towards Theodosia's face.

Lois lifts her gaze to the Lis d'Or adept that is Sarielle, and those blue eyes widen. "Ah…. Eire…", the young Coquelicot adept sighs wistfully, and it seems that hearing to foreign sound of Sarielle's pronunciation of names pulls her a little out of her temporary reverie. "Bad fairies," she tries to put her observations into words, but perhaps the joie is already hampering her ability to think and really grasp things.

Theodosia smiles, with surprising gentleness, her lips revealed by her mask but she nods. "Blushes can be delicious, especially when one lays soft lips against them in a kiss.." She is no true predator though and she only opens her left palm invitingly. "i do not mean to frighten you, messire..this is a night when Naamah's servants are free to enjoy themselves, without any pressure, and I would not break that covenant. But i should like sharing another drink with you..and maybe.." She tilts her head a bit roguishly. "We can eavesdrop on what passes behind that silk."

Aurore settles her skirts attractively with a practiced hand, "Oh! that does sound interesting." She is going slow with this glas for fear of her step wandering on the way home. "Please do tell us?"

<FS3> Severine rolls Perception: Success. (3 1 7 1 4 4 3 1 2 5 4 5)

Among the novices present tonight is another figure clad in the gold of Lis d'Or. Lisette wears a sleek form fitting gown of shimmering pale golden silk that has been adorned about the waist with a multi layered belt of golden disks designed to look like coins. That layered belt jingles softly designed to shift and trail behind the form fitting dress. Her shoes are also gold, dainty slippers both pretty and practical. Meanwhile platinum hair is left down to cascade down the young girls back in a glossy curtain. A winged half mask of gold that shimmers softly in the light gives her an ethereal look. Earrings in the form of more coin like disks hang from her ears, each earring made up of two small disks. A thick collar like necklace of similar coin wraps about her slender neck, the coins here layered three times over for affect. The low neckline of her dress shows off a touch of her curves and the tight dress flatters her shape as she flits about, serving glasses of joie to all who look thirsty, at least until its her time to perform.

"Bad— oh? Or merely claiming their due?" Coco lifts her empty glass to punctuate her point with a gesture of its rim toward Lois, first, and then toward Sarielle. "If I could with a wave of my hand ruin crops, I would consider it the least people could do to treat me nice—ly," she can't finish the sentiment without breaking out in a snort of laughter, then flinging her sistrum-wielding hand over her face to stifle the sound.

"Ah… careful, Cochonnet…" Séverine is all helpful, lifting a handkerchief to dry off some of the joie that now stains La Cochonnet's front. Her efforts are gentle and far from aiming to take advantage of the situation. "That tale though…" Something catches the Red Rose's attention and she pauses. Tilting her head a little she listens to what Sarielle tells them, pale delicate features looking slightly thoughtful. "Yes.", she seconds Aurore's plea. "We would like to hear more about this."

Aimeric looks towards those curtains, curious. "You are suggesting we'd eavesdrop?", he asks Theodosia, just looking a tiny bit shocked at her proposition. Setting his glass down on a tray he begins to walk over to where the others are seated in that slightly shielded area. And yes, the closer he gets, the more silently he moves.

Theodosia giggles a bit and winks. "Yes." She picks up two glasses from a passing tray and hands one to him, then lays her right hand on his arm as they try to creep towards the silk curtains, the young adept will definitely be better than her, since she's in high heeled booties which make tip toeing rather more difficult. She peers at Aimeric with a playful look in her eyes, as if enjoying an..adventure.

Aurore looks carefully at each woman who talks in turn, the joie making such concentration increasingly necessary. Her speech is growing slower and more careful, the accent of L'Agnace subtly giving way before vowels more suggestive of Kusheth. Her eyes carefully track the sway of Coco's glass, "Your glass is empty…." And then she is throwing her head back in another of those rather mannish laughs, though the pose dose show off the graceful lines of her neck rather well. Then she leans forward with a slight sway, towards Sarielle, "Please? Do tell us."

<FS3> Sarielle rolls Poetry: Success. (1 2 7 1 1 5 3 1)

Lisette glides over towards the group, flashing them a bright smile as she offers to take Coco's glass and replace it with a full one. Her eyes sparkle with interest from behind her mask as her gaze flits across the group with open curiosity.

Sarielle looks ready to protest at Lois' branding before Coco intercedes, and the woman is afforded a nod, "Even so, my lady Cochonnet. To say the Fair Folk," Fae-re, it's said, "are bad would be as if saying the winter performs maliciously when its frosty touch heralds the death of a delicate blossom; they merely act according to their nature, tempestuous, but with wild magic." The attentive audience has the young woman fully in her element, ready to shine and inspire. She hooks eyes with Aurore coquettishly before letting her gaze slide to the rest of their party. "Now, the Tuatha Dé Dannan, when they were free, were a people of great knowledge, wisdom, and bravery. Their magic lent them the ability to heal, all skillful handicraftsmen and musicians, soldiers and poets, and their weapons held the keenest edges. They possessed a faultless beauty, tall and fair, that could drive mortals to madness." Dramatic pause. What else did you expect?

Cochonnet sets her sistrum down beside her head, and, relieved suddenly of her empty glass, she rolls her eyes backward to grin up at Severine as she goes to mop up something she wasn't even aware she had spilled. But her tits are probably half-frozen in that gauzy gown with the gilt ribbon holding it bundled under her considerable bosom, and her back arcs slightly while she takes Severine's hand under her own, and, murmuring, "Missed a spot," she proceeds to warm her left breast with the aid of Severine's palm, which she moves in small, slow circles. If Severine won't take advantage of the situation, she sure will. What a sort of creature it is to which Lisette returns a full flute of joie! She enjoys having the right of the lesson almost as much as she enjoys molesting herself at Severine's expense, and it's a contented piglet whose lidded gaze returns to watch Sarielle's oration.

<FS3> Severine rolls Composure: Good Success. (5 6 3 7 7 7 1 4 4 3)

Aurore is definitely attentive. She sips absently at her Joie, still bent towards the young adept, eyeholes fixed on the storyteller. She smiles encouragement. In her current state, she's rather tunnel visioned and the seductive contratemps going on around her are currently passing unnoticed.

Séverine finds her hand taken and used by La Cochonnet, and she cannot help but grin. It is Longest Night after all, and who would not appreciate the perfect shape of a d'Angeline breast and refuse to worship it as it deserves? As things are, Séverine keeps that worship to a somewhat acceptable minimum — a compromise, if you will, between actual fondling and merely playing along under protest, to appease the other Second. "Is that better?", the Red Rose inquires softly, before she pulls quite insistently her hand away and leaves Cochonnet to her full flute of joie. To Sarielle, Séverine turns her attention now, and the tale of the Tuatha Dé Danann does not fail to impress her. "I remember seeing a book somewhere in a hidden library, a book that was full of such tales," she muses thoughtfully. "How unique it is, to hear these tales, and even if they are not grounded in our history and culture, they do not fail to fascinate us."

There is something to be said about eavesdropping. Aimeric does it with grace, leaning slightly forward, pulling just so at the drape. Nevermind the loud clicking heels of Theodosia's boots. The glance he gives her may be a little reproachful, but there is also that blush that stains his cheeks, perhaps brought about by the intention to overhear others. Who knows? Or is it the daring neckline of Theodosia's dress? Anyway. Their approach is noted by someone at least. A Thorn, apparently, clad all in black. This courtesan snaps his fingers to gain Aimeric's attention, and then gestures for him to move off, in the efficient manner Mandrakes have truly mastered. The White Rose sighs, and then excuses himself, muttering, "I must go… I shall see you later, perhaps." Never anger a Thorn. Especially if he caught you eavesdropping on a Second of your salon. And so Aimeric slips away, vanishing in the festive crowd of adepts and courtesans celebrating Longest Night in Marsilikos.

Theo pouts a little when her companion is summoned away, but she does give Aimeric a merry wave before she leans against one of the tall columns, listening to the interesting stuff about Sídhe..and other pieces of conversation from behind the silken curtains, and while she grabs a glass of joie she has to abstain from applauding.

Sarielle is too involved in her tale to be thrown off by the rather overt display between the Seconds. She looses Lois for full mobility of limb, using her own sparkling costume for great embellish effect. "For two hundred years, the Tuatha Dé Dannan, the Children of the Goddess Danu, held the land, until the coming of the Milesians, from whom the modern people of Eire are descended." She pauses to let this sink in before continuing, falling into a rapturous cadence.

"Mac Cuill, Mac Cecht and Mac Gréine, who were kings of the Tuatha Dé Danann at that time, asked for a truce of three days, during which the Milesians would lie at anchor nine waves' distance from the shore. The Milesians complied, but the Tuatha Dé Danann created a magical storm in an attempt to drive them away. Among the Milesians was a cunning poet by the name of Amergin, who had no magic but that of his verse. He spoke to the sea, and his words were of such surpassing beauty that the waves themselves calmed the sea to hear his verse."

The way Sarielle crafts it, it's meant to engender D'Angeline fancy. The adept sips at her joie, letting her captive audience react as they may.

"Unsuspecting, the Tuatha Dé Danann were ambushed in the morn, their empire falling to the Milesians. Though defeated, a wife of one of the Kings, a Goddess among women by the name of Ériu, begged a boon; though the land was no longer theirs, she asked that it remain known by her name, so that the Tuath Dé would not be forgotten."

"Once the warring stopped, a bargain was struck in good faith. But the poet Amergin was cunning, and offered to split the lands of Eire if the Milesians were allowed to stake their claim first. When the Danann agreed, the conquerors chose the land above ground, which then left the gods of old to preside over the lands below. They were forced to depart beyond the mortal world through the Sídhe, the mounds of earth in the ground, to the Otherworld Tír na nÓg, Land of Youth, where they live forever more."

Aurore's beak sways slightly in time with the cadence, the eyes behind her mask wide and a tad glassy. At the pause, she lifts her glas for a longer drink, and is surprised to find it empty. She peers into it in momentary confusion as if trying to figure out where all her joie had gone.

Cochonnet vaguely considers how calming the seas would be an ill proposition for those pledging to stay nine waves' out— but so beautifully woven together is the tale that even the boisterous piglet cannot shout out in the middle. She's rewarded well enough by the gambit of the terrain dispute, which makes her head tip back in a laugh that she only can stifle with more joie.

Sarielle seems gratified by the attentions of her audience, including Seconds and the Noble Lady in attendance. "So is it that, at the times the veil between this world and the Otherworld grows thin," the gossamer fabric of her gown is stroked, and the adept pinches a piece to model this veil between worlds, "that people leave offerings for the Tuath Dé, now known as the Aes Sídhe — people of the mounds. To ward away their magics through gift of berry and bread while the Fair Folk slink through the doors of their residences in hills, faerie rings, betwixt the branches of the hawthorne tree." At this, her fingers slide from the gown to the twigs of wood affixed around her waist. She grins heartily at Coco and Aurore both, curtsying. "Of course, there are many more stories of the Tuath Dé and Aes Sídhe, far more than one evening — no matter how long it may be — can contain. But I hope you've enjoyed this much, my ladies."

Aurore blinks slowly and peers at the kinetic illustration. Then she is clapping and smiling at the young Adept, "Oh! Do you think we should make an offering? Just in case? And perhaps a gift for the storyteller too?"

Cochonnet undulates upward, all suddenly, lifting her sistrum and giving it a cheersome shake by way of applauding the storyteller. "Ah, oui, ma fille," she croons dizzily, sparkling with joie. "Let me leave you to your offerings, and you— to the offerings on offer," she addresses to Aurore, first, then Sarielle in turn, giggling a half-stifled giggle as she slithers out of the silken tent and leaves them on their own.

Sarielle chuckles warmly at Aurore's suggestion, suggestive brows raising and causing her mask to shift upwards. Syllables softly drawling in the Eiran fashion, she replies over the rim of a fresh flute of joie (don't worry, she made sure the Noble was offered a refill, as well), "It's always a good thought to give the Aes Sídhe their due, my lady." The phrasing encompasses both those mythical beings and the adept herself, and the corners of her mouth curl into an impish grin as she sips. The retreating and fairly inebriated Second is spared a glance, her own eyes reflecting the Orchis-canon's mirth.

Aurore sets her glass down carefully so as not to spill any and sticks a hand up one of her wide winglike sleeves. After some fumbling, she pulls out a pearl. "Here, for the story and come show me how to make a proper offering…."